In split-second judgment, the Valor Tongue unsheathed, dismembering the contorting limb before it influenced the rest of Yroa's torso. The lightning didn't even have time to cackle, but the bile-like poison on it did catch itself seeping into Yroa's body.
"Gyaaa!? W-what's happening, Master??" Azel exclaimed, not knowing what to react.
"Huh?"
Yroa took a look at his dismembered hand that was laid on the ground. It appeared perfectly normal aside from the high-reacting poison and some sign of cauterizing from the electricity of his self-made Valor Tongue.
Did he just dismembered his own hand for nothing?
Something felt wrong, but both of them didn't know why. Something was messing with their perception of reality, and Yroa was sure that something crucial happened before he instinctively brandished his two-forked dagger.
After a month of smooth sailing, Yroa realized that the logic of Yassimhre is a little bit skewed